I'm taking a moment from the frantic whirlwind around me - frantic because I'm leaving for the nation of Haiti in less than 13 hours, and though I should have begun packing roughly three days ago, the first time I even considered what I needed to take was.... about six hours ago.
This being my third trip to this tiny Caribbean country, I think I've got the packing list down, but the mental preparation is a bit more daunting. Here I am, little American girl with suitcase in hand, standing right on the edge of something so much greater than I. I recognize the spectrum of emotions I always feel before this journey. Anticipation, concern, excitement, and a dose of apathy as well. These are the polar opposites of the ones I feel coming back, which range from sorrow and joy to absolute, total disgust.
Why?
Because every time I go I learn to love new souls. Every time God spreads His light a little further into the darkened box of humanity that is the island of Hispaniola. Every time I see just how much I could do without and just how willing I am to do without it if it means just one day longer with these children, these precious, precious children. Because I know that when I leave them, I will inevitably at some point not cry every night for their poor, starving bellies and their empty eyes. And it breaks my heart that every year I would be so able to underestimate the human's ability to forget. And every time I say, "Not this year."
